


When i speak, you bet your life my words are true.

by sleepy_fl0wers



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I mean, M/M, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Songfic, Unspoken love confessions, blame Red for those tags, illumi is there what were you expecting-, inspired by THE Killugon amv, is that a tag????, it is now haha, like h/c on its greatest splendor, lots of softness, nightmare fic, up down left right, we've all cried watching it at 3 am youre not fooling anyone, white men who killed god, writing this fic took me like a month please, yeah dont try to hide you know which one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_fl0wers/pseuds/sleepy_fl0wers
Summary: He wakes with a gasp, and for a second, he feels haunted, plagued by the memories of the events that just took place, confused and oh so miserable.He feels emptier than he ever has in his life.He didn't feel this empty when he was forced to run until he could no longer move until his muscles gave out from exhaustion and he vomited and collapsed.He didn't feel this empty when he was suffocated in the fountain of the family garden, the only place where he felt comfortable. He learned that he could never let his guard down that day.He didn't feel this empty when he was burned, and hit, and poisoned, and simply tortured in every and any way his family could come up with, day and night, for years on end.He feels this emptiness now, that his brain tricks him into thinking he's lost Gon, and not only lost him but done it himself, giving Illumi the satisfaction of thinking he was right, after all these years. Unable to love, unable to escape from his grasp, unable to choose.THIS ENDS WELL I PROMISE PLEASE DONT BE SCARED OF READING THIS I WOULD CRY ITS JUST A NIGHTMARE FIC
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	When i speak, you bet your life my words are true.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Red_Head_Woah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Red_Head_Woah/gifts).



> WARNING!!  
> This fic deals with some manipultion, yknow, natural zoldyck tingz, and light descriptions of violence, canon typical, nothing too bad, but if you feel like you cant handle it, it may be good to skip this one.
> 
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szJQ0d7WOZ8) is the song the songfic is based on. I listened to it while writing it, and i recommend listening to it while you read it! It adds so much onto the vibe hehe 
> 
> title is from Rät by Penelope Scott because it's a Killua song no i dont take criticism.
> 
> thank you to bitch baby Red for betaing this fic, i love you to death dude!

And I'll use you as a warning sign.

Killua can't breathe, he can't.

He can't feel his lungs, but they freeze and burn and remain unmoving inside him as he desperately tries to catch his breath in useless gasps. He's hyperventilating, but he feels so unimaginably cold. His eyes sting and he wants to scream and yell until his throat rips into two.  
He closes his eyes, and opens them once more, and tears are blurring his vision, but he can't blink them back, and his anxiety grows immensely.

His legs tremble and so do his hands and his mind is blank and yet his thoughts are racing like cars through a driveway and he can't stop the groan that breaks into a sob and scatters across the cold wind after leaving his aching insides. 

That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind.

His hands try to grasp onto anything he can find, anything that can keep him standing on his feet, anything that can make him feel secure.

His mind is scattered. Where is he? How did he get here? Why? And most importantly, Where the hell is Gon?

He feels like he's going insane as he suddenly becomes more aware of where he is.  
He walks through the hallways of a building.

The wallpaper is a velvety red that's fading as he walks, there's barely any light but the moonlight shining through a window every few steps he takes, and he feels in deep agony.

Killua thinks, tries to concentrate on something that isn't the constant and restless banging of his heart against his chest that repeats the same few syllables over and over.

It whispers and screams and it's all that fills his mind along with the fear and panic.

Gon, Gon, Gon.

Where the hell are you?

The need is what keeps Killua on his feet, and then a chill runs down his spine, and he trembles. He knows. He knows he isn't alone in this hallway.

He looks behind him in a flash and is greeted by nothing but an empty black. He wants to run so desperately, to run until he can no longer stand, but he's frozen in place as tears roll down his eyes.

Killua looks at his own trembling hands and they're stained with blood.  
Blood he spilled, blood he took himself.

Innocent and guilty blood. Blood of enemies. Blood of allies.

Blood with love and hope and faith. Blood with fear and pain and rage.

Blood from so many people, but nonetheless, blood that isn't his. Blood that he snatched away ruthlessly.

It glows scarlet in the dark and he puts his hands on his chest, staining his white shirt and trying to calm down his screaming heart because it's beating so fast it's all he can hear in his ears. The pounding.  
And if he isn't careful, then he will find him.

And he will make him pay.

And I'll use you as a focal point.

Killua doesn't want Illumi anywhere near where he is. He can't, not again.

And it's so painfully ironic, so much so that it just seems like a cruel joke.  
He has been tortured and trained and put through so much pain and suffering, so much agony and despair to the point where each night he went to sleep he begged and cried to not wake up the next morning.  
All his life shifted and based around him being able to endure any form of battling and poison that may come his way.

Only to be destroyed and deformed by the one thing he was never taught of. Love.

He sobs again, loud and painful, and he can feel the life leaving his body with each step he takes.

"Gon!" He screams, his voice breaks into shreds and his throat aches with a knot formed in it. His stomach twists and he starts panting with tired breaths.

He begins to run again down the endless black hall. He feels delirious as his mind pounds with a headache and he just wants to give up, but he can't be calm if he doesn't know where Gon is.  
He runs, and he doesn't know how long it's been or how many miles he's endured, but he can only feel the adrenaline kicking at his body with the tremble of fear growing with each steady, fast step of his feet. 

The old wooden planks creek under each stride he makes, and the back of his mind thinks they might be breaking, but the darkness behind him creeps further with his running body movement. It doesn't feel like it's chasing him though, it feels like it's just following his steps, eating at the walls and floor Killua passes, and he doesn't know what he's running away from anymore, or if he's running away from anything, but he cannot stop.

Not until he hears an echo.

"Killua?"

So I don't lose sight of what I want.

And he freezes immediately, and so does the darkness consuming the hallway because there's only one voice that can make his heart race like this when it calls his name.

He has been used to cruel, cold voices saying it with no trace of affection or care, but only Gon's voice can taste so sweet.  
Killua can only not get enough of Gon's voice, drinking it all in and wishing for more, wishing to listen to it for as long as he shall live, needing it like his life depends on it. Yearning, aching, longing for it like nature needs the warming sun.

Gon warms Killua's very core, all the way to his soul.

He stays quiet, the silence is deafening, only filled with the pants he so desperately tries to contain and the incessant pounding of his tired heart. He tries to be as quiet as he can so that he can listen carefully.

He cannot think of anything as he hopes to listen to that voice again.

"Killua!" it calls once more, sounding desperate and restless, and all Killua can do is continue on running, the relief and burning he felt when he stopped seconds ago long forgotten, and instead replaced with the burning need of making sure Gon is alright.

And I've moved further than I thought I could.

He feels like he can't keep moving, like he'll collapse any second now, but he still keeps on.  
He keeps on, and he runs. Seconds turn into minutes and minutes into what feels like hours, even though Killua knows there is no way in hell it's been that long.

"Gon! Gon where are you?" He keeps on yelling and running, his lungs burn again, and just as he thinks he can't keep on running anymore, the hallway ends, and he's greeted by the revealing of a giant door standing proud and tall in front of him.

Killua sobs, and takes a shaky breath to calm himself down.  
He breathes. In, out. In, out.  
He's been hiding his tears in his whole life, learning when to hush and when to speak. Learning when he needs to concentrate and keep himself together. 

He reaches for the door's metal handle and turns it slowly, not making a sound. He slams it open after he's sure no one hears him, and he's greeted by a person with black spiky hair whose back is turned at him. His face is looking downwards, and his hands stand loosely at his side, uselessly.  
Killua hasn't even looked at his face yet, but he looks exhausted. Did they make him run through that hallway too?

Killua's heart jumps in his chest, and so he calls the person's name.

"Gon!"

With relief, a smile already halfway formed in his face, he reaches to touch Gon's shoulder.  
But he's met with no answer.  
The smile is long gone now, as his mind races thinking of what could be wrong with his best friend.

He had forgotten how much those words made his heart ache.

Gon is still staring at the ground, immobile, almost as if he was broken.

The shiver travels down his spine again. He's in danger. Gon's in danger.

He turns around in a matter of milliseconds, and he's faced with the only person able to make him genuinely tremble in uncertainty.

"Hello, Kil." A monotone voice fills the velvety room, and Killua has to look down at his feet to stop himself from physically shaking (out of anger, out of fear perhaps. He has no idea.)

He raises his arms slightly at his sides, his hands curled into fists out of pure instinct. Out of terror. Out of the raw necessity he feels as his brain screams at him to protect Gon because god, Killua can't bring himself to care in the slightest about what happens to himself.  
He's used to pain. He's used to the crushing and excruciatingly hurtful art of torture that's been performed on his skin, on his body, on his soul since before he can even remember. The unclear fuzzy memories swim in his mind and he has to repress the need to check at his arms for wounds.

But he could never forgive himself or anyone else if something happened to Gon because something as precious and delicate and with such a bright way of beaming and illuminating the darkness this world - Killua's world - holds can't be broken and mistreated in the ways Killua has been.  
There is nothing in this universe that will even come as close as to touch a strand of Gon's hair as long as Killua lives.

But I've missed you more than I thought I would.

And so that voice in front of him, Illumi's voice, the bitter and emotionless ruthless and barbaric voice he's come to know so well, carries on at the lack of a response. 

"What keeps you up at night?" He asks out of nowhere, and Killua is so taken aback by the question his eyes shoot up and stare at his brother in shock. "What makes you tremble and shake in fear? I bet I can guess."

Illumi still wears his mask, Killua notices. The mask that has always made Killua so deeply uncomfortable. That meant something bad was going to happen to him. Something that would make him sob and scream in agony for help, only to once more be left with himself and no one else to vouch for him.

"Oh Kil. It makes me so deeply disappointed to see you like this." Illumi closes his eyes, only to open them and look at Killua up and down.  
This makes Killua uncomfortable, and so he makes a decision he immediately regrets.

He looks down at himself.

But he is only met with the lifeless corpses of the people he has murdered. 

Killua gasps for a breath, and he feels a cold shiver run all over him as he stares at the dreadful sight in front of him. The expressions of horror and pain that are plastered on people whose names he doesn't remember, and he can only feel pain because it feels so wrong to not know all these people whose lives he selfishly took from them, but mourning them feels nowhere near right either, after all, he is the cruel cause of them not being present any longer.

And everything around him feels fuzzy and unclear. Like a dream. Like a nightmare.  
But he feels a cold hand touch his shoulder, and he can barely stop himself from hiccuping and flinching.  
The touch feels wrong in a way that makes Killua plead over and over again, but never aloud because he would be dead if he did.

Please let go, please let go, please let go.  
His mind repeats.

Tears fill Killua's eyes, and he's seconds away from screaming with all his might - he thinks, but he knows he won't. He'll just stay quiet hoping for a greater power that will forcefully pry Illumi's hand away from him-.

Killua looks up to his brother, his breaths coming in agitated pants as his glossy eyes fill with tears to the point where Illumi's face is almost unrecognizable, surreal. 

And I'll use you as a warning sign.

"Oh no Kil, you don't deserve to cry." Illumi smiles.  
But it's wrong. A wicked smile that means absolutely nothing.  
There is no trace of warmth or affection, nothing but an empty black hole carrying despair and malice greater than words could ever explain.

"You've done this to yourself." A twist of his hand and Killua's shoulder is now being bent in a way that would break it if he hadn't been used to the sharp pain since he was young.  
It doesn't hurt, not really, but the contact still burns and claws at his skin, just because it's Illumi's touch. Because of its nature and its intent.

He had been so used to his family's smiles, filled with faith and hope and sweetness and forgiveness so exhilarating they helped Killua understand that empty, black, horrifying smiles aren't a symbol of kindness.

Alluka's innocent and loving grin. The way she looked at him with those round, big eyes, sparkling with wonder and trust. The way her voice shifted with admiration and filled Killua with inexplicable pride. His baby sister.

Kurapika's well-studied half-smiles that felt like barely above a whisper. That unique moment his eyes went soft and affectionate whenever they were laid on any member of their small family. The first family he had dared to have after losing everyone in his life. 

God, even Leorio's annoying as hell smirks had such a warm sense of fragility in them. A spark that made Killua feel safe and cared for. Not that he would ever tell the old man any of that. He would get cocky. Killua didn't want that.

And of course, Gon's warm smiles that made Killua's knees go weak with a single glimpse of them. The honest and kind light that emanated from them, making Killua feel like he was floating in space, a million miles away from anything that could ever harm him. 

But Illumi's smile was just a hollow. An illusion used to manipulate and harm. To cause pain and dread and every and any emotion that made you feel terribly.

But it's not like Killua can say a word, right?

Illumi is right after all. This is all his fault. He doesn't deserve to cry. To hurt. He has caused all of this. He has no right to feel in the first place. Tools don't feel.

But if tools don't feel, how come his heart thrums in his chest so powerfully right this instant?

That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind.

"We're not so different, you and I." Illumi starts again, finally letting go of Killua's sore shoulder.  
Killua feels an immediate wave relief travel through his body, and he immediately walks away to keep himself out of reach of any more of Illumi's touches. He would be angry if he didn't feel so uneasy.

"You know what they say." He tilts his head and chuckles humorlessly. Darkly. "Two sides of a coin."

The simple nature of that phrase terrorizes Killua to the very core of his being.  
He grew up hearing his mother and father speaking of how he must behave like a Zoldyck, of how he must grow into them, with their behavior, their ability. How he must become the best. The heir to the respected image they held.

The mere thought of that horrible fate makes a shiver run down his spine, makes him want to sob, and end things just so he can escape from the atrocious and horrid nature of that path.

"Do not compare yourself to me," Killua says quietly, but the words are strong in nature and filled with pure, unadulterated anger.

Illumi takes notice of the effect he has on his brother. Of course, he does.  
He finds it useful, he trained him to doubt his own actions, to seek approval, to come back to him and try to fix something that has been broken from the very start, and Killua is aware of it. But he can't find it in himself to stand back. He tries, he truly does, his very best, gives everything he has to convince himself he hasn't done anything wrong, but he can only keep blaming himself. Hating himself.

"Just remember Kil." Killua has been clutching his fists so forcefully they shake, blood is drawn from the broken skin where his nails meet his palm, and he finally finds it in himself to look up at Illumi.

He walks forward until he's an arm's length away from Killua, and Killua can't tell if his legs are not moving out of pure paralysis or determination.

"It has all been your fault" Illumi holds eye contact with him, and Killua feels like he might pass out any moment now. He holds his breath carefully. His eyes sting, but he doesn't let himself look away. He refuses to hand it over to Illumi so easily. He will not.

"Once again, you've found a way to mess it all up." Illumi looks at the ground, and Killua wants to follow his gaze. He tries, but his body doesn't respond. His tone is not accusatory, or angry, and somehow it just manages to make it all worse.

His brother's gaze softens in a way it never has before, and it makes Killua's stomach twist and churn painfully.  
"But it doesn't need to be that way." And the fake smile is back. 

"What kind of brother would I be if I didn't give you a second chance? I understand after all."  
Killua frowns deeply. His eyes are still filled with tears, but his pulse raises and his jaw clenches with force.

Illumi raises his hand, inspects it with an aura that can only be described as boredom, or indifference.  
"It was something new. What you longed for, I mean." Illumi stares at him again, and Killua can feel his blood boiling because god, if he means what he thinks he means then he better shut the hell up.

But Illumi keeps on talking. 

"It was something exhilarating, something to pass the time, but the time is now over." Illumi's tone grows dark, and Killua isn't quite sure he wants to know where the conversation is heading.

"You've had your fun, but it's time to move on, to learn," Illumi says. "It's time for you to make the right choice. To become who you were meant to be." 

"I never wanted any of that and you know it!" Killua snaps, but he's met with no answer but the echo of his own voice ringing through the room.

He looks up, and at that moment Killua freezes on the spot with terror, because somehow Illumi disappears and he is now staring at himself, who is standing straight, his nails sharp and his eyes cloudy with something that can only be described as lifelessness.  
His hands are drenched in blood, and his hair is messy in a careless way. It suits the "I'm definitely out of myself" look quite spectacularly.

The Killua in front of him is serious and unblinking. He raises his hand with a sharp movement and smirks. The same dark and twisted smile Illumi directed at him.

Killua feels sick, like he could vomit any second, but he keeps his calm nonetheless. 

"What do you want?" He grumbles.

His own self extends his hand to try to touch his shoulder. In a second, Killua dodges his grasp. 

"Don't touch me!" he exclaims forcefully.  
He doesn't like this, he doesn't like this at all.  
Killua felt confused, and frankly terrified, but at this point, he just feels a powerful wave of anger washing through his body.

Cause I found love where it wasn't supposed to be. 

The person in front of him -calling it himself makes it so unnerving he can't bring himself to think about it that way. The bloodied puppet belonging to Illumi standing before him could never be Killua in any way, shape, or form. He is no longer a scared child, he tries to convince himself.- shifts, his face looks serious, a perfect replica of Illumi himself, and Killua feels sick, dread sticking to his throat.

Killua moves, takes a small step back, and looms over the figure, that is now walking around the room himself.  
He tries his best to be intimidating, to make this person tremble in genuine terror like a child, like the child Killua once was, petrified with fright by his brother, but no matter how much Killua tries, the dark, blown pupils of this person don't do anything but follow his steps.

It awakens something in Killua he didn't know still was inside him, something that had been long asleep, a sense of defiance, the pure rush of annoyance he wasn't a stranger to. He never liked being underestimated by people.

The figure's come to a halt, and a smirk paints his face. Killua wishes for a moment looks could kill, because if they could, fake Killua would drop dead on the floor in a looming second.

The air becomes cold, tense with murderous intent, and his gaze sharpens even further, beyond what can be comprehensible.

"Look at me." He speaks. "Look at yourself."

Killua's eyes widen, and his mind runs wild in paranoia, because it's like listening to a recording of his own voice, so identical, and yet so different, missing the edge of sentiment so characteristic Killua owns. Missing life. It sounds robotic in the worst of senses.  
"You're failing. You're not fulfilling your purpose." He finishes off and begins to walk in a circle around the room once more. 

"I never wanted that life," Killua says, and he might never admit to anyone how his voice breaks at the end of the sentence because he's been over this a million times, repeating it over and over again. "If you're really me then you should know it better than anyone!"

"I'm just thinking of what we could be. We could have been so extraordinary. We were raised to be extraordinary, and you spoiled it."

"Don't talk like we're the same person! We are not! You are not me!"

"But I am you." Another dark smile. Killua flinches, and stops, facing the figure from the other side of the room. "You and I are one in the same. We are both Killua."

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"I know what you fear. I know what you want. I know who you want." He takes a step forward.

"Just stop it already goddammit! Stop it!"

"I know who you want to be. I know what you want to change. And let me tell you one thing." One more.

"I told you to stop it!" 

"You will never be enough. You will never manage to change your nature. You'll give in, because you always do, and you'll end things."  
He stands in front of Killua.

"I told you to stop it!"

Right in front of me.

A flash. A split second is all it takes for the edge to be broken.

Killua is now standing on the opposite side of the room.  
His hand is drawn up, and blood drips from it.  
I told you to shut up.

He takes a moment to breathe, a shaky gasp, the kind of gasp you would draw when you’ve been holding your breath underwater for minutes, and you barely make it to the surface.  
Killua wants to look back, but it scares him. He's not willing to see his own dead body. It’s disturbing.  
But he does anyways, he turns around slowly, giving himself time to regret it, to turn away.

He's immediately met with a sight he definitely wasn't ready for. Not now, not ever.

Gon stands where Killua's shadow used to, and he turns to look at him, eyes wide with pain and sorrow, before he falls to the ground with a hollow, empty dreadful sound, and he knows it's his fault. He caused this. How did this happen? It wasn't him two seconds ago. 

Killua gasps, his mouth is useless, not a sound other than his desperate breaths, his desperate sobs. His mind blurs in a second, his legs give out and he falls to his knees.  
He can't breathe, he can't think, his whole body aches, and so does his chest.  
Tears form in his eyes, they glisten, they fall, and he crawls to the other side of the room as fast as he can, panting and hyperventilating withdrawn puffs of air he cannot control. He cannot control anything. He is useless.

No, no no no NO NO NO NO NO.

His mind repeats.

He's drowning, his body is on fire and he's being suffocated, because he can't feel anything but pain surrounding him whole.  
He gasps again, cries out Gon's name, and once he gets to his side, Killua looks at his face, his eyes, open and empty and the shine he has known and relied on since he was a child, the light he's come to adore so wholeheartedly, unconditionally, irrationally is gone.

Talk some sense to me.

He closes his eyes because he physically cannot bear it, he can't look at him, he can't bring himself to, not when he knows he can't change things. He can't fix them, not this time.

He grips his own hair, and his head falls at Gon's chest, the physical pain is nothing compared to the way he is numbed, the way his arms and legs shake.  
He looks up again, It's the worst mistake he can make because the bleeding on his neck stains his hands as he tries to apply pressure at the wound, but he knows it's useless. He's used this killing technique before, and he's never failed with it. Not once.

"No, no, no." He still whispers. He can't stop himself as they turn into screams that make his throat hurt more than it has ever before.

He screams, he sobs and cries out in agony, he feels like someone is gripping his insides and twisting them in a way they're not supposed to be. He feels like a hammer is repeatedly being banged against his ribcage, leaving him unable to breathe, unable to feel.

Tears fall down endlessly, but he pays them no mind.  
"This wasn't supposed to happen" he screams. "I never wanted this! All I ever wanted was a life in your shape!" He yells at no one. He's so empty, hollow. He has nothing, not anymore.

"I just wanted you." His shoulders shake with the breaths he gasps for. His face is twisted into despair, another sob leaves his sore throat. "I could have gone a lifetime throwing myself into the unknown just for you, Gon."

Killua looks up, and shifts so Gon's back lays on his lap, cradling his face with his hands.  
Gon's features are soft, relaxed, and stained with his own blood now that Killua has touched them.  
He bends down, and he's facing right into Gon's eyes. Their noses meet in a bittersweet inuit kiss that only manages to push Killua even further past his breaking point. " Just to be by your side. Just to be yours."

Killua comes to the conclusion that he does not, could never, will never deserve any good in his life.  
Maybe Illumi was right after all. Maybe he does break everything he touches, and perhaps, he's broken the purest light of them all. 

"I was always yours."

Cause I found love where it wasn't supposed to be.

"I told you you'd break, didn't I?."

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

No. No, no, no.

No.

Killua grips Gon's body tighter against him.  
He hugs him into his chest in a protective manner, because it's been enough of this.

"This is your fault." He states.

"I told you you'd come to your senses little brother. I'm proud of you, Killua."

"Don't talk to me."

"Killua."

"Just leave me fucking alone!" 

"Killua!"

But suddenly, he's falling.

Right in front of me.

He wakes with a gasp, and for a second, he feels haunted, plagued by the memories of the events that just took place, confused and oh so miserable.  
He feels emptier than he ever has in his life.

He didn't feel this empty when he was forced to run until he could no longer move until his muscles gave out from exhaustion and he vomited and collapsed.

He didn't feel this empty when he was suffocated in the fountain of the family garden, the only place where he felt comfortable. He learned that he could never let his guard down that day.

He didn't feel this empty when he was burned, and hit, and poisoned, and simply tortured in every and any way his family could come up with, day and night, for years on end.

He feels this emptiness now, that his brain tricks him into thinking he's lost Gon, and not only lost him but done it himself, giving Illumi the satisfaction of thinking he was right, after all these years. Unable to love, unable to escape from his grasp, unable to choose.

His eyes adjust to the darkness, and he raises his hands automatically, a panicked frenzy that his brain forces onto him, but to his fortune, the only thing they're drenched in, is sweat, not the scarlet blood that glistens thick with guilt and uneasiness.  
And after seconds pass, he finds his eyes being met with Gon's face, and he just might die this instant, because he was only dreaming, and the love of his life is sitting in front of him, eyes wide with worry, beautiful and luminous and alive, emanating warmth and kindness and it's all Killua could ever want. 

He closes his eyes, and tears fall from them, tears he didn't even notice had formed in the first place, but he feels so relieved and light it's no surprise to him they're present.

"Gon." Killua breathes out, and his name rolls off his tongue in a soft manner, filled to the very brim with desperate relief, with longing and joy, calm and yet out of control in the natural and perfect way the breeze blows and whispers, unpredictable and precise.

Talk some sense to me.

"Killua…" Gon trails off in a whisper, with that particular way he has of saying his name, like something sacred, something lovely and unspoken and beautiful in its very nature. Something theirs, something he can never quite place, but its present, it has been since they met, and it'll keep on being there, hidden and perfect until they're gone from one another, until age rips them apart, because it's the only thing that could manage to, and even through that, Killua decides he's not letting go off Gon. Not ever.

He closes his eyes, and sighs once more, which catches Gon's attention again.  
In a second Killua shifts, and sits upright on the bed. He lays his head on his knees, and his hands bolt towards his eyes because Gon doesn't deserve to deal with this, with him crying and being pathetic and weak. He shouldn't have to wake up to Killua screaming over something that wasn't even real.

"Did I wake you up?" He mutters, ashamed of himself.

"Yes, but it's alright. I couldn't sleep that well anyways." Gon offers him a kind look filled with calm and affection, with honesty, and as wonderful as he always has been, offers him a half-truth, because he's too good to make Killua feel bad, and Killua has never been able to place what he has done to deserve such kind treatment, and each morning he wakes up, he fears, he so deeply fears it'll be over.

And I'll use you as a makeshift gauge.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with this." Killua rubs his fingers against his eyes for a couple of seconds. He's suffocating.  
Has the air always been boiling hot like this? Thick like fog. Heavy with particles of dust and sweat and pressing altogether onto Killua's skin, until he's unable to think straight, as Gon's eyes tear down each wall he has built to protect himself for years and years upon end.  
"I'll just go to bed. I'll lay down. You can go back to sleep, you don't need to worry."

Killua doesn't look upwards when he feels Gon's hands on his shoulders.  
He doesn't let himself even glance for a second. He breathes heavily, and yet he feels light. Light and calm as he burns, turns into a fire he can't control, only to consume himself into the flames, until he is filled with life, with Gon and Gon only, whose touch lingers softly, with no rush, pure, soft anticipation as he lets his fingers hover over Killua's shivering skin.

So I know how much to give, and how much to take.

"Hey." Gon begins in a hushed whisper. "Don't say that." He frowns for a second, Killua notices, because he's quiet, and his hands are still.  
He's come to know every single one of Gon's expressions, to love them, and admire them with renewed appreciation each day. Each smile and each freckle, each blink of his honey-lavender eyes, each wrinkle that lays on his face, unnoticed by anyone but Killua, because Gon may be young, but he has gifted so many smiles to this world, that they're so very present there, making Killua's chat ache with an untraceable feeling of sweetness that settles in his stomach.

Suddenly, Gon's hands disappear, and Killua feels so cold it's painful, making his skin feel frail and frozen, so he looks up, and his heart beats so loud in his ears, filled with love so pure it blinds him, leaves him speechless and unmoving, pumping through his arteries, leaves him with eyes only for this kind soul that has given everything for him, and Killua has known since he was a kid that the beating of his heart, so stubborn and full and certain, would be the death of him.  
His weakness, his safe point, his measure, his gauge.

He's known he's going to give, give, give.  
Give to Gon until he is left with nothing because he has never been able to deny anything to him.  
But Gon is so kind, so beautiful and unreal and mesmerizing he knows this, and has never been selfish enough to take advantage of the light that Killua's eyes emit when he looks at him, so he can trust over everything, that even though he might give and give, Gon will not let him ultimately consume himself. He'll take, and give him just as much adoration in return, he'll make it so they are both grounded to the soil together, so they can grow and shape themselves into something better.  
So they can learn to be Gon and Killua separately, and yet together. Together in harmony and wonder.

And I'll use you as a warning sign.

"Come on. Scoot over." Gon offers with a laugh and Killua melts absolutely, completely, and who is he to say no to Gon?

So he does, he moves, and Gon lays on one side of the bed, with a heavy plop of his body that would seem ungraceful to anyone else, but it's so purely Gon Killua can only smile gently, and lay back down on the bed himself.

They stare at each other, unblinking and hazy.  
Killua can't think, can't speak, and there's always been something so deep within them, something that hasn't been as they thought, something that has been softer and stronger than any friendship, always present, always there, pulsing with care.  
But they were kids thrown into a war, kids confused and lost that needed something to stand steady on.  
And nonetheless, they know now, they know and there is so need for words. No need for clarifications or doubts. Killua won't doubt anymore.

He reaches out, so softly, and lays his hand on Gon's face, tentative and cautious.  
He's met with a smile, and Gon closes his eyes, pressing into the touch. Into Killua's touch.

And Killua detaches, from all his doubts and insecurities, all the fear and anguish and emptiness he's been carrying for so long, with the silent steps he was taught to take by his family. With silence and guilt, all on his own.

That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind.

"Gon." He whispers, just for the sake of saying his name, just for the sake of, for the millionth time, tasting it on his mouth, the sweetness and simple happiness it brings him to say it, once again confirming all his feelings, buried so deep in his chest, so irrevocably that he can't imagine a life in which his breath doesn't hitch every second Gon's eyes meet his.

"Killua" he hears a whisper. Soft, like a promise.

"Thank you." Killua doesn't know what he's thanking Gon for.  
It could be for saving him from his family, of saving him from himself, or simply and naturally, for fighting alongside him for all these years, for facing adversity and adversaries by his side always, for reminding Killua that he is enough, that he deserves that place beside him, that he deserves as much as he is willing to take, that he could go on without anyone but himself, but he has chosen to be beside Gon nonetheless. And Gon has chosen to be beside him in turn.

Cause I found love where it wasn't supposed to be.

Killua thinks of saying all this aloud, He thinks and thinks, but by the time he is about to, Gon looks at him with understanding, with admiration and guidance in his eyes, pure and whole.

"I know" he mouths softly, and Killua is not sure if Gon's eyes are spilling with tears, or if it's the angle from which they're looking at one another, but he chuckles. His eyes close with restlessness, and he can only hug Gon close, as close as he can get, until he doesn't know where he ends and where Gon begins.

Only when he knows Gon's breath is heavy with sleep, when it's him, when he feels the safety and comfort of the silence enveloping him, he dares say it, whisper it into the soft warmth of Gon's light. The light that Killua drinks in. 

Right in front of me.

"I love you" Killua declares.

And he may never know because his tired eyes close, and his breathing softens as he falls into his dreams, no longer unpleasant, but Gon smiles softly.

"I love you too Killua."

Talk some sense to me.


End file.
